I think that breast augmentation IS an effective way to increase one's self esteem. That is, of course, dependent upon the fact that the person is a highly self-concious and flat chested girl to begin with.

Take me, for example. Skinny, flat-chested (supposedly -- self-diagnosed) but otherwise hourglass shaped. I was extremely shy with boys and very hesitant to get naked.

So of course the Bank of America that I worked across the street from was seemingly calling my name. As I walked in to fill out an application for my first credit card the day that I turned 18, a thought crossed my head: why not enter my annual household income as well above one hundred thousand dollars? It couldn't hurt. So in a few minutes I had a shiny new piece of plastic worth six thousand smackaroos.

And what did I do with that power but turn around and run up the stairs to the sixth floor of the medical building. I pretended to be interested in researching the procedure by asking the receptionist at the front desk for a brochure and a video. But I soon made that fateful consultation appointment and tried not to think about a sixty-year-old man who would be fondling my nipples.

Once the nipple-fondling was over and done with, I decided that I wanted to be a D-cup. Of course, my experienced surgeon decided otherwise and changed it to a full C during the augmentation.

It was very painful for the first two weeks, and I couldn't even get out of bed. But once the bandages were off and the stitches removed, I WAS A NEW WOMAN!

Nothing could stop me. Any and all men were are a possibility, or so it seemed. I went through an endless stream of relationships, from one month to 2 years, never being single for even a day. I was still wary about taking off my pants, but I would show almost anyone my new breasts.

In fact, since the surgery (3 years ago), I have told a lot of people that I have "fake boobs". Usually, if there are any females present, they want to come and touch them. And just the other day, after a few drinks, these two chicks actually took off their shirts and showed me theirs. I have never seen another young woman's natural breasts before, and they are very beautiful.

Sometimes I wish that I had never gotten breast augmentation done, but then again, I think that it had a lot to do with my identity. Ever since the surgery, I have been more outgoing, more confident in my sexuality, much less self concious about the top half of my body, and much more flirtatious around men.

So why don't you open up your phone book and dial a local plastic surgeon today?

In the late 70s and early 80s, an endless stream of women flocked to Hollywood, all of them dreaming of fame and fortune. But jobs were scarce, and instead of hitting it big as the next Charlie's Angel, many of them ended up hitting the bed as Charlie's Anal Whore.

Now, at that time, the porn business was obsessed with huge breasts. To be a porn star, a woman had to be able to lick her own nipple. She had to bend over and let her breasts dangle, showing people just how huge they really were. She had to endure a scene in which she was serviced so vigorously that her boobs bounced all over the place (and if they happened to slap her in the face in the process, hey...all the better). And the cumshots, much of the time, were delivered onto the chest.

The producers of porn weren't trying to impress viewers with beauty or nudity or raunchiness; these women were relatively unattractive and the sex wasn't all that explicit. So what was it? Well, you know how you sometimes feel compelled to stare at someone with strange eyes, or an enormous nose, or a twitch? The same sort of thing is going on here. They wanted viewers to be aroused, of course, but they also wanted them to be astonished by the sheer absurdity of titanic breasts bouncing wildly in every direction as their owner moaned in mock ecstasy. With the stupendous bosom, the pancake makeup, the teased hair, the perfect tan, these women looked completely unnatural--and that was the appeal. They were only available on video, and only if you shelled out your $29.95.

To make all this work, a woman needed a chest of a certain size. B-cup breasts didn't flop around all that nicely, and an A-cup--hell, outside of fetish videos, there's no way a woman with an A-cup could get a fucking job. They needed at least a C-cup at least, and even that didn't quite cut it, especially on taller women--they needed a D, or better still a double-D, if they were to have a chance in the business.

Young women average between a B-cup and a C-cup, which means that the plastic surgeons in Los Angeles were doing a roaring business. It was just another hurdle for these women; they had gotten into porn because they were desperate for a big pile of fast cash, but they ended up having to do God knows what to earn the money to buy the breast implants that would allow them to succeed in the business and make the money they needed.

So woman after woman went under the knife, and soon almost every porn star in the business had the telltale signs: the ragged circle around the areola, the scar in the armpit, the tight white crescent on the underside of the breast. They had endured the soreness and tenderness, the need to lie in bed for days on end, the extra strain on their backs, and the painful pulling sensation as the skin of their breasts gradually stretched to take on the new volume of silicone beneath. Some of them had gone to less reputable surgeons and ended up with botched surgeries, ruptured implants, breasts that had hardened or sagged or wrinkled. Some had implant after implant after implant until their chests reached incredible sizes: 38E, 44F, 54G. But that was the price of admission, and they had paid it in full.

Then fashions changed, as they inevitably do. The porno mags Hawk and Tight and Live Young Girls were founded to concentrate on young, athletic, natural girls. Chic explicitly dedicated itself to "the preservation of real boobs," which it declared (with some truth) to be an endangered species. Filmmakers started new video series that focused on teenagers, college girls, or "amateurs." ALS Scan, one of the web's premiere porn sites, started out by banning women with implants, then went a step further: If you had anything bigger than a C-cup, whether natural or unnatural, they weren't interested. Oh, maybe they'd take you if you were extraordinarily hot or were willing to do a little something extra, but otherwise you had to go elsewhere.

The porn queens of old stripped off the pancake makeup, let their hair down, and cancelled their membership to the tanning salon. But the scar in the armpit and the crescent under the breast are still there--and always will be.

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